Of Diviners and Goblins
Chapter VI
By Sailor Northstar
Disclaimer: Um...lets see. I don't own Labyrinth or anything having to do with Toril except for my characters and this story. I think that covers everything, so...let's get on with the story!
"I don't see what the problem was!" Gala complained. "So I wanted to talk with someone I admire. What's so wrong with that?" the young diviner asked, throwing a nasty glare at the goblin king, who was riding beside her.
"The problem?" he asked incredulously. "The problem is that I want my powers restored to me, and we didn't have time to wait for you to drool over that elf," Jareth continued. Galadrea thought about it, then decided that she was just annoyed enough to retaliate.
"Oh, well then. I guess I shouldn't even mention Sarah, should I? Who was she?" Galadrea asked in a snide voice. The reaction she got wasn't what she had expected. Anger briefly flitted across his face, then it was replaced by what appeared to be excruciating pain. With a groan, the arrogant monarch bent over, and began to shudder.
"J-Jareth? Are you okay? Answer me!" Galadrea demanded, her voice rising in concern as the spasms showed no signs of stopping. Nudging her mare closer, she hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder. With a growl, the tormented man straightened and violently knocked her hand away. His eyes were so full of anguish, that to Gala it seemed impossible that he was even able to speak.
"Do not ever, EVER, speak Her name to me in that manner again, or I will kill you," the goblin king promised in a cold, utterly calm voice. Shuddering, she drew her horse back from him. Never before, even at his angriest, had Gala felt so fearful of Jareth. What in the Abyss did that Sarah do to him to make him like this? she wondered, ready to duck if he showed any more signs of violence.
"I'm sorry, Jareth. I didn't realize she meant so much to you--" Galadrea began, in a quiet voice.
With an abrupt gesture, the king cut her off. "No, you don't realize at all, do you?" he asked, his voice holding all the frigidness of an artic storm. "Now, lets continue on, shall we and hear no more of past people and events, hmm?" Jareth suggested, his eyes hooded and his voice full of mockery once more.
"Of course," Galadrea murmured softly, for some reason sorry at having caused him such pain. For the rest of the day, they continued to ride in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Cutting straight through Settlestone saved them about a day's trip, and Galadrea was glad for it.
The evening grew about them, and above a countless number of stars sprinkled themselves in a glittering shower. Galadrea and Jareth stood looking at the shooting stars for a minute, then proceeded to set up camp, silently. Finally, the silence became unbearble, but this time it was, amazingly, Jareth who broke it.
"Sarah was the first person to ever beat me," he said softly, his mismatched eyes going out of focus as he travelled memory's misty corridors into the past. Galadrea sat up, startled. "I had been watching her for quite a while. She had the most gorgeous dark brown hair, and her eyes were those of an innocent child. Sarah was quite a dreamer," he continued, then chuckled a little at his last words.
Not wishing to disturb him, Galadrea sat completely still, hoping to hear more. "One day, she wished her brother away, and I appeared before her. I was frightening, because that was what she expected. I challenged her, she begged for her brother back. I gave her a quest: beat my labyrinth in thirteen hours, and she and her brother could go free," Jareth continued, his lean face becoming more lined, more careworn, more tired.
"She accepted the challenge, and I thought I had her. Yet, she managed to solve puzzle after puzzle in my game, no matter what I threw in her way. She even managed to turn three of my subjects against me," he said, whistfullness coming over his face. "I admit, I tempted her, showed her a brief glimpse of her dreams, and offered them to her. Gods, she was so lovely, standing there, a confused expression on her face as she tried to remember that little line that would let her win." Jareth sighed and shook himself back to the present. His eyes had softened somewhat, and he turned his mismatched, penetrating gaze on Galadrea.
"She won, and left me. I kept hoping that she would call for me again. Year after year I waited. I watched her get married, have children, live a few happy years, then die quietly," he said, his voice softening. As the flames crackled merely, the firelight glinted off a tiny crystal at the corner of the king's eye. "She never even thought about me. It was my fault really, though. For many lonely years after her passing, I thought that maybe if I had waited another year before arranging things so that she would no longer be a child when she met me, that things would have turned out differently."
Turning his gaze back to the fire, he brought himself under control, and his voice was firm once more. "The years passed, years of complete boredom, with only stupid half-wits for company. No one to match wits against, and then," he broke off and took a deep, shuddering breath. "And then you appeared. Your magic reached far into the labyrinth and caught my attention. For the first time in years, I felt as though life had finally provided me with a reason to live. I observed you, and believe me, it was quite difficult. You were protected by those damn wards that protected the tower itself. The only way in was for you to invite me." Jareth smiled, and held up a hand as Galadrea tried to interrupt in anger.
"Then, fate dealt me another ace. Your brother destroyed all of your carefully planned work. And, poof. You wished him away. But you left before I could confront you, so I had to wait in anticipation for another day. I expected you to be like Sarah. To complain that it wasn't fair, and then to beg me for your brother," he stopped, taking a deep breath and allowing his old personality to come to the fore.
"But I didn't do any of those things," Galadrea replied, beginning to understand. Jareth nodded, and a hint of his old mocking, to-the-devil-with-propriety smile showed around his thin lips.
"Exactly. You attacked me, and then issued a challenge of your own. Instead of asking for help, you proceeded to do your utmost to destroy the labyrinth, while your demon-spawn of a brother," and here Jareth grinned fully, "did his best to destroy my castle. I never told you what your brother did the first hour he was there, did I?" Galadrea shook her head, a smile of her own appearing.
"I think I can guess," she said, a trace of laughter in her voice. "Indros then proceeded to run around the castle, doing as much damage as possible before he was caught, correct?" Jareth chuckled, and then began to elaborate.
"He didn't just cause havok, my dear. He climbed onto the balcony railing, and started dropping goblins from the balcony and watching them hit the floor. He threw some very rare vases at me, nearly braining me, then proceeded to taunt me. If I hadn't been so furious, I would have been proud."
"Proud? Really?" Galadrea asked, between gales of laughter.
"Yes indeed. Now that I think on it," the goblin king said, leaning around the tiny fire to get closer to Gala, "he reminded me of ME at that age." At that, Jareth began to laugh too. In that instant of shared amusement, and pain, the tension that had been building ever since the inn in Nesme began to dissolve. The truce restablished, they spent the rest of the evening cheerfully trading stories of some of the most annoying people they had ever met.
About noon of the next day, Jareth and Galadrea left the forest itself and found themselved on a well-travelled path. "Well, just a few more hours and we'll be in Silverymoon, and then you can get your powers back and go back to ruling the labyrinth!" Galadrea exclaimed, happily. Jareth echoed her manner, yet somewhere, in a part of his mind that he could barely comprehend, a voice whispered, Don't go! Don't let this wonderful opportunity pass you by! Silently, he stuffed the voice back into its box and followed Galadrea.
Once again, it was a beautiful day, much like the day that they had first set out on. Too perfect, Galadrea had a bad feeling, and she traded a look with the King. Rolling his eyes expressively, Jareth reached down and loosened his sword in its scabbard. Just as they reached a clearing, the ambush sprang at them. However, this time it wasn't bugbears. Oh no, that would have been too perfect, Jareth thought as the stench hit him. Damn, it's almost as bad as the bog! he thought, drawing his sword. Beside him, Galadrea let loose with a very nasty volley of magical missiles.
Busy with destroying the three ogres that had come after her, Galadrea barely registered what was happening to Jareth, and so never even realized his danger until she heard his voice chanting a very, very familiar spell...
As the power rushed through him, a wave of euphoria rocked his mind. Holding out his hand, a wave of magic was released, ripping through the two ogres and tossing the final one to the ground.
The last ogre, not wanting to face the terrible power which had killed its comrades, ran away at top speed. Dismounting, Galadrea stumbled to Jareth's aid, worn out herself from casting her own spells. "Are you okay?" she asked, and a feeling of de'ja vu swept through her.
As if reading her mind, Jareth replied, "Haven't we gone through a scene like this before?" he asked, jokingly. Grasping her outstretched hand, Jareth pulled himself up, only to have a wave of exhaustion nearly send him to the ground again. Then, a strong yet gentle arm was supporting him around his waist.
"Easy there, handsome," Gala murmured, soothingly. "That's just a normal reaction from casting a powerful spell at the limit of your abilities. Just stand still and it will pass in a few moments," she reassured Jareth, while he closed his eyes to stop the spinning.
"I-it's not just that, pretty one," he said, his voice hoarse with pain. "I once read a magical text that was too advance for me. The blindness went away, but it left me with these terrible migraines after each time I cast a spell. The more powerful the magic, the worst the migraine," he gritted out, biting his lip to keep from screaming in pain. Her face white in horror, Galadrea led him over to a tree and sat him down gently, supporting his head in her lap. Gently, she began massaging his temples, and working her way along his scalp.
Jareth felt cool, soothing fingers brushing the pain away, breaking up the god-awful blackness that had begun to tinge his vision. As the fingers kept up their soothing rhythm, he began to relax, the pain flowing away like water. Sighing in relief, he allowed the exhaustion to claim him, sinking into a land free of dreams.
For a minute, she had been frightened. The suddeness with which he had passed out had alarmed her, and Galadrea thought that his mind had simply shut down. A quick feel for a pulse in his neck reassured her that he had simply sunk into a deep, healing sleep. Pillowing his head in her lap, she leaned back against the ancient tree and shut her eyes, weariness claiming her too.
It was there, in the midst of the battle, that the Knights of Silver, the elite guard of Silverymoon, found them.
Yawn! Who want to chat with stuffy mages? Let's go party!